Normalcy
by Emories
Summary: Oneshots of Percy and his demigod friends at school.
1. Chapter 1

**History**

The teacher was reviewing the Revolutionary War in preparation for the upcoming test on Monday. I think she was lecturing to us about the Constitution or the Declaration of Independence. I didn't see any point in memorizing the facts. In the demigod world, the facts are fiction, and the myths turn into facts. I kind of learned that the hard way.

Thus, I rested my head on my desk, silently anticipating the moment where the godly bell would ring, and I could leave to go to lunch.

"Who could tell me one of the writers of the Declaration of Independence?" Mrs. Cooke, my history teacher, asked. When I first saw her nametag, "_Hello! My name is Mrs. Cooke! I am one of the history teachers at Goode!_", I accidentially mistakened her name for Cookie. Ever since then, I was on her top ten most hated students in her class, having never forgiven me for calling her a cookie.

She fixed her evil glare on me. The only thing worse than math teachers are nefarious history teachers.

"Percy Jackson."

My instinctive reflex was to look up and maintain the facade of an attentive, history-loving student. "Um, what?"

"Answer the question."

I desperately racked my brain for a possible answer. Who in Hades' name _did_ sign the Declaration of Independence? Someone called Thomas? No, it can't be Thomas the Tank Engine. Can it? No, I'm pretty sure that he was a train... Thomas Edison? Yeah, that sounds like a person. Should be him. I can recall reading about Thomas yesterday; he was definitely a person. Probably a son of Hephastus. Maybe Apollo... Annabeth would know.

"Thomas Edison." I answered triumphantly.

The whole class burst out in laughter, but Mrs. Cooke's stern look silenced them immediately.

"And how exactly would the inventor of the lightbulb contribute to the reason why you are an American today?" Mrs. Cooke asked sarcastically.

"I'm not American. Well, half. I'm Greek too," my mouth blurted out.

Mrs. Cooke didn't say anything. Maybe it wasn't Thomas Edison. Maybe the guy wasn't even called Thomas. Thomas Edison...

"I mean," I tried to correct myself, "con Edison."

And that is, Mom, how I ended up in detention for being a "class clown who disrupted the lesson with meaningless jokes that shamed American history". When I went to pick up the mail from the endless rows of metal boxes down the hall, I realized then that con Edison was the guy who made us pay for water and electricity. And Thomas Jefferson was the dude I was looking for. Although it didn't help how Nico appeared one night with the ghost of Thomas Jefferson.

* * *

><p><strong>Math<strong>

Thanks to Annabeth, I managed to sustain an overly satisfying score of 70 in math class. Back then, I was always at the brink of failing math, a 65. Fortunately, my luck landed me with relatively nice math teachers who sympathesized with my current situation, being a father-less child afflicted with both dyslexia and ADHD, with the exception of the demonic Mrs. Dodds.

I was supposed to be taking Trigonometry in 10th grade, but instead I was taking Algebra I. So that day, we were learning about simplifying trinomials. Math was beguiling, but girlfriends who were math whizzes made it seem easy.

Ms. Kwong was nice. She assigned us classwork which would end up as homework if we didn't finish it.

So I was currently staring at page 526 of _Prentice Hall Mathematics New York Integrated Algebra_which instructed on how to factor trinomials. Thing is, I couldn't understand the math until _after _I got home. That was when Annabeth would sit down with me and explain stuff.

_Simplify the following expressions._

1. x^2+2x+1

I stared at the problem. Then I recalled the teacher mentioning something about that question in an example she showed us today. She wrote the answer.

On the looseleaf, I wrote: x^2+2x+1=(x+1)(x+1)

I noticed that there was an upsetting sad face right in the middle of the equation. I didn't like sad faces. It reminded me of the expressions peoples' faces conveyed after the Battle of Manhattan. So, I changed it to: x^2+2x+1=)x+1)(x+1).

I spotted a shadow hover over me, the gray darkening my looseleaf.

"Percy," she chided me gently. "That doesn't make sense. A parenthesis cannot-"

"It looks like a sad face." I interrupted her.

She clasped her head on her forehead, as if saying, _what am I going to do with you? _Finally, she sighed and gave me a weak smile.

"If it makes you happy, instead, you can simply write it like this."

She picked up my pencil and wrote: (x+1)(x+1). "x and the parenthesis make a smile."

_That's dead, _I finished the sentence sadly. Although, I did appreciate her thoughtfulness.

* * *

><p><strong>Health<strong>

It was mandatory for New York City public school students to have at least five health classes per year with the consent of a parent or guardian. The content shared varied on the age of the student. To rephrase it, you could be learning about the importance of washing your hands in Kindergarten, HIV and AIDS in fourth grade, and having sex education classes in tenth grade.

In other words, it made things incredibly awkward for us tenth graders. To worsen matters, classes were not divided between girls and boys.

So we were learning about condoms.

The health teacher must have been immune to this kind of stuff. She didn't even seem to mind talking about this information.

"There are three types of condoms: latex, polyurethane, and lambskin." She explained passively.

"Lambskin." I repeated. I turned to Nico, muttering, "those must be luxury condoms. I've never heard of them."

He gave me a funny look.

"Lambskin condoms are indeed condoms made using lambskin. They are one of the oldest types, made back in perhaps the early 1900s."

"Never mind." I answered.

"Now, children, please do consider seriously before having sexual intercourse. Let's say that you have a friend who plans to have sexual intercourse with his or her boyfriend or girlfriend. Jot down two ideas to say to your friend."

Two seconds later, she said, "Who wants to share their answer?"

To my surprise, Nico raised his hand.

"Nico di Angelo."

He looked at the teacher uncomprehendingly. "If you get pregnant, don't come crying to me."

"If it's a boy?" Someone called out.

"You don't want to be a father, do you?"

The teacher called on someone else.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**I haven't been active for a while. Sorry for that. :/ I was just seriously busy with homework and tests right before Mid-Winter Break which is right now. Time for nine hours of sleep again :)**

**Review? Ideas?**

**I get motivation to write from emails clogging up my inventory. I promise to include Annabeth/romance in the next chapter...(bribery xD)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Blueberry**

I was on my way to the locker room to change for the swim team tryouts. I couldn't join the team last year because my grades were too low to make the benchmark. When I encountered Annabeth in the hallway, being the good boyfriend I was (just kidding), I diverted my course to the direction of her.

"Hi."

She was dumping textbooks into her locker.

"Why are you leaving everything here? We need that for homework." I left all of my books in my backpack which probably weighed more than the total weight of ten elephants. Though how all of those elephants, considering that they were adult size and not child or embryo sized, would fit without breaking the schoolbag itself, I wasn't so sure.

"I already know all of this stuff. It's been recorded into my brain." She explained, tidying up the pile of textbooks in her locker.

"Wait, I thought that-"

"I have the Greek version at home. Anyways, shouldn't you be on your way to the pool? I believe that the tryouts start in," she glanced at the gigantic clock on the wall, "three minutes," she said dangerously.

Uh oh.

"Um, can I have a kiss for good luck? It's a tradition, right?"

She sighed, finally succumbing to my request. Annabeth stepped up on her tiptoes, placed her hands on my shoulders, and pressed her lips lightly on mine. I suddenly felt extremely dizzy, as if birds were flapping their wings and flying around my head in circles. You know, like what they do in Tom and Jerry?

Suddenly, she pulled away and laughed gently.

"What?" I protested.

"I've never noticed before, but your lips taste like blueberries." She explained. She looked suspiciously at me, surveying my face for any sign of alarm. "Do you use blueberry toothpaste?"

I recalled the picture of the toothpaste tube, remembering that there were blueberries drawn on the corner. "Um, yeah."

She covered her mouth and laughed again.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"Oh, it's nothing. It's just that most normal people use mint toothpaste."

"Whoever said that I was normal?"

"Good point. 'Cause you're not. And I never said that you were."

* * *

><p><strong>Distractions<strong>

"Percy," Annabeth sounded like she was three seconds away from strangling me. "Can you_ please_ put a shirt on?"

It was right after the tryouts, and we were standing near the school pool. I didn't like chlorinated water. It wasn't natural. Dad wouldn't be too happy if he found out what humans were doing to the water.

As naive as I was, I answered, "What's wrong with being shirtless?"

She groaned, refusing to meet my gaze. Instead, she pointed in the direction of a bunch of giggling girls, not even bothering to look in their direction. "That."

"Okay, girls are laughing. How is that not normal? Besides, I don't want to get my shirt wet."

"Well, hasn't it already been torn by monster claws and stained with monster goo?"

"Percy," Thalia cut in. "You're so stupid, it's not even funny. Can't you tell that first of all, you being shirtless is _extremely_ distracting to Annabeth?"

"Thalia," Annabeth threatened, but she ignored her.

"I'm a Hunter, so I'm immune to this stuff. Adding on, those girls are staring."

"They are?" I questioned.

"_Yes_, they are, so go put a shirt on," extending the 's' in yes, making her sound like Medusa.

* * *

><p><strong>Competition<strong>

I walked out of my locker, furiously trying to dry my hair with a towel, when I encountered Annabeth, Nico, and Thalia in the hallway. Annabeth swiped the towel out of my hands and tossed it to Nico, who caught it perfectly.

"Hey!" I protested. "Gimme my towel back."

"There's a much easier way to do that."

"What do you mean?"

"Use your Poseidon powers, idiot."

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

My hair dried.

"So, did you make the team?"

"Yes, but I'm not the captain."

"Why not?"

"The coach decides. Apparently, he hates me too."

"Sucks for you."

I heard the way-too-familiar sound of high heels clicking-clacking which gave me a panic attack. In my brain, high heels = teachers = I'm busted. I turned around warily, and all of my agitatedness faded away.

The cause of my _almost_-panic attack was three girls that I identified as cheerleaders. Girls imitating children of Aphrodite that wore a-bit-too-revealing clothes and makeup that could outweigh the amount a clown wore.

"Heeey, Per-say," the blond one said, dragging out the last syllable of each word.

I backed away. She looked too much like Kelli (or was it Tammi? They were of too little importance for me to remember their names), and the last thing I needed was to blow up Goode _again_.

I sent a look which I hoped to convey_ Help! _And of course, like she always does, Annabeth stepped up to my rescue. "What do you guys want?"

The blond one looked sweetly in my direction, which I wished she was looking at Nico. "We just wanted to congratulate you. Do you," she emphasized the word_ you_, "want to hang out later? Like, at Starbucks, and like, get some coff-ay?"

"Sorry," Annabeth snatched my hand to pull me away, "he's busy today. Doing _homework_."

"Aw, but homework can wait for later." She slashed her hand between mine and Annabeth's, separating them. "And you're quite the overprotective girlfriend. I'm sure Percy can think for himself."

Annabeth looked at her coolly, lacing her fingers through mine. "This is not worth my time. Let's go, Seaweed Brain."

With Thalia and Nico ahead laughing about who-knows-what, we turned our backs on them and left the school.

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><p><strong>AN:**

**No reviews? Oh wells. Thx for the Story Alerts/Favorites.**

**Ideas? Reviews?**

**I'm off to my aunt's house for a sleepover, so see ya.**


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